


Happenstance

by NeoNails



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Because making Felicity become his EA was a stupid idea, Felicity is awkward, Gen, Laurel being naive (and maybe a little bitchy), Oliver can be an asshat sometimes, Post 2.02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoNails/pseuds/NeoNails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It took some getting used to, but it can be pretty entertaining. (For example: spending every work day hacking into places like the CIA, FBI, and NSA, and getting paid to do it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happenstance

**Author's Note:**

> Look, guys. I like Arrow. I really, really do. However, last week (2.02) was probably one of the stupidest episodes I ever watched. I’m not going to list all the reasons, but I found myself rolling my eyes at either the cheesiness or the off-the-charts ridiculousness of that episode way too many times. If they hadn’t given Diggle so many good lines I probably would have just called it the worst.
> 
> I’m also seriously, seriously pissed about that bullshit with Felicity. Which is how this happened.

_I don’t ever wanna let you down_  
I don’t ever want to leave this town  
‘Cuz after all  
This city never sleeps at night

\- “It’s Time,” by Imagine Dragons

* * *

 

Felicity hadn’t been to many of these things, but she knew instinctively that it was never going to get less awkward.

( _Well… less awkward than this.  But that’s only because this was the_ worst.)

Laurel ( _Her Holy Perfectness_ ) Lance stood there, looking disgustingly ethereal in some white, gauzy confection that made Felicity positively green with envy ( _and maybe a little nausea_ ).  “I’m sorry, did I hear him right?” she asked, her head tilted at a perfect 45-degree angle.  “I thought you were in charge of Ollie’s IT department?”

( _For the record:  she was fucking_ murdering _that little snitch Gary Rubeski for making that flippant comment about her “fancy new secretary job.”_ )

Felicity smile was brittle ( _because_ of course _that bitch remembered that thirty second conversation she had with her a year ago_ ).  “I was,” she replied, choosing her words carefully ( _she was_ not _slipping up this time!_ ), “However, I took over the position as executive assistant when it became apparent that Queen Consolidated had quite a bit of recovering to do.”

( _Nailed it_.)

For some reason, Laurel’s confusion only deepened ( _she kind of looked like a baby bird_ ).  “Oh, so you were promoted?”

( _You.  Bitch._ )

“It was really more of a lateral move than anything,” she answered, fingers clutching her champagne flute in a vice-like grip ( _where the hell was Dig right now?!_ ). 

“So you enjoy the work?”

_(Of course I don’t, you dumb bitch.  I have a degree from M-I-freaking-T and I’m doing_ filing.)  “It took some getting used to, but it can be pretty entertaining,” she replied, brushing an errant blonde curl off her shoulder.  “And it has its… perks.”

( _For example:  spending every work day hacking into places like the CIA, FBI, and NSA and getting paid to do it_.)

Laurel finally lost some of that wide-eyed confusion, but it was immediately replaced by something a thousand times worse:  pity.  “Oh, well, that’s so nice,” she said gently, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.  Her chocolate-colored eyes scanned the room, clearly looking for better things ( _and people_ ) to do.

“I’m sorry, I hate to interrupt, but did you say that you were originally the head of IT?”  Felicity’s head whipped around, and her eyes nearly doubled in size when she saw the newcomer.  The redhead might not have been the most stunning woman in the room, but her dress was _to die for_.

Clearing her throat uncomfortably, she nodded once.  “Uh, yeah,” she murmured, eyeing the floor length forest green gown.  “I mean, yes.”

The redhead’s mouth curved into a proud, knowing smile as she stepped closer to the both of them.  “That is almost perfect,” she drawled, her eyes—which uncannily matched the dress—trained solely on Felicity.

Laurel let out a breathy little giggle.  “What on earth does that mean?” she asked, giving a dainty little shake of her head and making all those honey-gold highlights in her hair sparkle and dance ( _and oh, how she wanted to rip those highlights right out…_ ).

She spared a sidelong glance at Laurel before zeroing back in on Felicity.  “I just wanted to let you know that Wayne Enterprises has a wonderfully expansive R&D department,” she explained easily, one hand swirling the tumbler of ( _scotch?  Jack?  Something that she could never drink, for sure_ ) while the other toyed with the four ultra-thin straps that held up each side of her dress.  “And we’re always looking to expand further.”

Felicity nearly dropped her glass as nervous laughter spilled out of her lips.  At first, just a few garbled noises came out, but finally she was able to gather enough of her wits together to reply flatly, “What.”

If the response surprised or annoyed the redhead, it didn’t show ( _how does someone have that good of a poker face?_ ).  “I’m the publicist for Wayne Enterprises,” she explained, shifting her weight to one hip.  “These things can get awfully dull so I like to look for local talent while I’m out.  I like to think of it as my little side-project.”

Felicity could only gape in silence ( _because who the fuck looked for R &D employees for a multi-billion dollar conglomerate at a stupid gala?_) and stare, wide-eyed.  She was so busy trying to figure out what the hell was up with this lady that she completely missed the next guest that strolled up. 

He stood closer to her than ultimately necessary, but that didn’t mean she missed the reverent glance he spared for Laural ( _all must bow before her beauty_ ).  “Hey,” he spoke to Laurel softly, before turning his gaze back to Felicity ( _yeah, thanks for the table scraps_ ).  “How’s everything going?”

The redhead stayed silent, calmly watching the scene with obvious interest.  “Felicity and I were just discussing her new position at your company,” Laurel answered before she had the chance ( _and was she crazy or did that bitch sound a little smug?_ ), “And Ms… I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

The redhead didn’t so much as bat an eye.  Her smile became enigmatic, almost like she was slipping on a new mask, so seamless Felicity almost missed it.  “I’m Natalie,” she answered, taking a careful sip of her drink as she eyed Oliver from top to bottom almost lazily, like she had no particular interest in him other than mild amusement ( _which just didn’t seem possible_ ).

Laurel hesitated, clearly not expecting the first-name only answer, but continued while Felicity resisted the urge to squirm in her painful ( _but gorgeous_ ) stilettos.  “Right.  Natalie happened to overhear, and she offered Felicity a job.  For Wayne Enterprises.”

Felicity was probably three or four inches away from Oliver, but she swore she could _feel_ him tense at that ( _and she was going to pretend that wasn’t sort of hot_ ).  “A job?” he repeated, his voice strangely tight.

“Yes, a job,” Felicity confirmed, the words leaving her mouth before her brain had a chance to expressly approve them.

“In our Research & Development department,” Natalie supplied, playing with a few loose, wavy locks that had fallen out of her messy-on-purpose bun.  “It’s state of the art.  In fact, we recently received a $5 billion grant from the government to produce the very cutting edge of technology for the military.  It’s very exciting place to be.”

“Felicity isn’t interested in that.”

Oliver’s answer was so swift, so damned _sure_ that it stole the breath from her.  She blinked rapidly, trying to process his sudden outburst ( _because did he_ seriously _just answer for her?_ ) and faltering when it still didn’t add up.  A peek at Laurel showed the exact same shock scrawled across her face ( _which was strangely satisfying—though his response was still bullshit_ ).

Natalie arched an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t react.  “Wasn’t asking you, Ken doll,” she drawled, her sharp gaze cutting across to him for less than a second.  “I was speaking to your entirely overqualified secretary.”

Bristling at the word ( _because this was not_ Mad Men _and she was not working for Don fucking Draper_ ), Felicity finally found her voice.  “It’s a wonderful offer, truly,” she replied, draining the last of her champagne.  “But I’m not completely sure that’s the right move for me at the moment.”

It was a little bit of a non-answer, but there was no way she was going to give Natalie a flat-out _no_ after Oliver’s big man talk.  She felt the urge to ramble more ( _because she still hadn’t learned how to shut the hell up_ ), but as she opened her mouth to let all the crazy out, the tallest, darkest, and _sexiest_ man strolled right up to their weird little group ( _oh dear God.  Cue the panty drop_ ).

“Oliver,” he said, grinning rakishly ( _sweet baby Jesus_ ).  If there was a man that somehow managed to be the physical polar opposite of Oliver Queen, she just met him ( _and he was freakin’ yummy_ ).  “How are you doing tonight?”

Oliver’s grin was too forced to be believable.  “Well,” he answered stiffly, leaving no room for response.  On his other side, Felicity saw Laurel frown deeply ( _good, at least she wasn’t the only uncomfortable one in the room_ ).

If he sensed something was wrong, he didn’t show it in his expression.  Instead, he turned his head toward Natalie, a strange flicker of amusement dancing across his fog-colored eyes.  “Everything all right here?”

“Oh, just peachy,” she told him without missing a beat.  Brushing auburn bangs out of her eyes, her countenance was so perfectly demure Felicity had a hard time not giggling ( _what kind of Twilight Zone was she in right now?_ ),  “I was just telling Ms. Smoak about the fantastic career opportunities we offer.”

He laughed like they were sharing some kind of inside joke ( _hey, but wait—when did she tell Natalie her last name?!_ ), and that reaction somehow only confirmed what she had suspected from the get-go: Bruce Wayne was standing in front of her ( _Bruce.  Fucking.  Wayne._ ).  “I keep telling you to play nice with others,” he said, speaking to her like they were old friends and not a boss and his publicist.

She smirked.  “And I keep telling you that’s not in my job description.”

Oliver cleared his throat pointedly, and that seemed to break them out of their bonding sesh ( _though, all sarcasm aside, they actually seemed like they could be fun people_ ).  Natalie’s smile was significantly softer, but it hardened when she saw the look on Oliver’s face.  “Listen, I understand that this is a little short notice, but you should definitely think about it,” she told Felicity, and her earnestness was almost contagious ( _almost, except she totally still had Diggle and Oliver and Green Arrow to contend with so that wasn’t going to work…_ ).  Reaching into her slim silver clutch, she removed a black card with deft fingers and presented it to Felicity.  With some hesitation, she took the proffered card, her fingers absentmindedly running across the sharp, raised edges of the silver font.

Natalie stepped back, ready to leave with her ( _stupidly hot_ ) boss in tow, when she paused as if remembering something.  “Oh, and we give great dental,” she added, tossing out a lascivious wink for good measure.

Felicity stared in shock, wide eyes following Mr. Wayne ( _seriously, he could give Oliver a run for his money in the_ Sexiest Billionaire Alive _category_ ) and Natalie, her figure highlighted by the skinny green straps the crisscrossed along her back ( _who definitely won the_ Sexiest Dress Ever _category for the night_ ).  She could feel Oliver’s eyes on her, silently observing and judging her every move. 

Regardless of her opinion on the job offer ( _and much to Oliver’s chagrin_ ), Felicity knew this wouldn’t be the last she saw of them.


End file.
